Death Waxed Over - Tim Myers [69]
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’m going to see if there’s any way I can find out more about that clown. That’s the real key to uncovering who killed Gretel.”
Markum grinned at me. “How much do you want to bet it was Runion behind the greasepaint?”
“Let’s see, I’ve got about ten bucks in my wallet. How’s that sound?”
“Harrison, that’s what I like about you. You’re not afraid of high stakes.”
“I just don’t want to take any more of your money than I have to.”
Markum said, “Let’s touch base again later. I want to see if I can catch this developer before he takes off for the day.”
“Be careful,” I said.
“I didn’t think you believed he did it.”
I shrugged and asked, “What if I’m wrong? I don’t want anything to happen to you because of me.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be on my toes. I promise you that.”
After Markum was gone, I decided to call in a favor to see if I could find the identity of that lethal clown.
“Mary Fran, this is Harrison Black over at the candleshop,” I said after looking up the number for the local television station in the Micah’s Ridge telephone book.
“Is my order in yet?” she asked. Mary Fran Duffy had just discovered the joys of pouring, and she was having a blast with the process. She was also a writer for our local news outlet, a cable team that was too small to support a channel of their own.
“No, the Christmas tree mold’s been back-ordered again. Soon, I promise.”
“So why are you calling?”
“I hate to ask, but I need a favor. I saw one of your cameramen shooting footage at the Founder’s Day Celebration. Is there any chance I could come by and watch what they shot?”
Mary Fran didn’t reply immediately, and I quickly added, “If there’s a problem or if it’s going to get you in any trouble, let’s forget about it, okay?”
She said, “It’s not that. The sheriff asked for the same thing last week. He watched our footage for an hour but he didn’t find a thing on it. I’m afraid you’d be wasting your time.”
“You could be right, but maybe we aren’t looking for the same thing. Can I come by this evening?”
“Tell you what, it would be better if you could drop by in the morning. We’re just about ready to shut down for the night. How early can you make it here?”
“I can be there at six,” I said.
She groaned. “A.M.? You’ve got to be kidding. Come at seven, and bring two coffees with you.”
“Should I bring anything for myself?” I asked.
“One of the coffees is for you, Harrison. See you tomorrow. Argh, at seven.”
“Thanks, Mary Fran.”
Maybe I’d be able to spot the clown in the video they’d shot, or maybe it would be a total waste of my time, but at the moment, it was the best thing I could come up with.
I was glad to see Eve when she came in later in the day to relieve me. I grabbed my coat and she said, “You’re in an awful hurry. Do you have a big date tonight?”
I raised an eyebrow and said, “You’re kidding, right? I haven’t had a real date since I took over this place.”
“Well then, what’s the hurry?”
“Jubal Grant is shutting Flickering Lights down,” I explained. “He’s offered to sell me their stock at rock-bottom prices, but I’ve got to jump on it fast.”
“Harrison, I should go with you. I know you’ve picked up a great deal working here, but I’m better versed in what things cost.”
“Come on, Eve, don’t you think I know that? I’ll take a rough inventory, then we can come up with a price tomorrow morning.” I suddenly remembered my appointment with Mary Fran at the television station. “I’ve got an errand to run first thing, but it shouldn’t take too long. I promised Jubal we’d have a price for him by noon.”
“What’s the rush?” she asked as she hung her jacket up.
“He wants to be done with it, and he’s only got forty-eight hours to clear out. I already told him he’d do better by having a big sale, but he’s not interested. Jubal told me he just wants to get out of Micah’s Ridge as quickly as he can.”
Eve frowned, then after a few moments’ thought, she said, “Here’s what we’ll do. After you take the inventory tonight, come back here and put the list on your desk. I’ll come in early tomorrow and give you